Hoje temos a resenha de Break My Fall, o primeiro livro da nova série da autora M Mabie. Veja abaixo nossa resenha e um pequeno trecho do livro. A sinopse você encontra aqui.
Today we have our review about Break my Fall. The first volume in a new series by M Mabie. Bellow you can read our review and a excerpt. You can also find the blurb here.
|Devo admitir que eu adoro ler sobre cultos e acho fascinante como tudo funciona, como eles são capazes de executar uma lavagem cerebral em tantas pessoas e as convencerem a viver fora da realidade. Essa fascinação foi o grande motivador para eu ler esse livro e devo dizer que estou feliz que eu decidi ler.
Bem escrito, com um desenvolvimento suave, fazendo nos entender como o Culto funciona sem nos dar uma palestra sobre isso.
Minha parte favorita foi poder ver todos os conflitos do Abe, como sua mente e sua programação pelo culto funcionam e como ele luta contra isso. Myra quebrou meu coração com sua inocência e sua completa falta de conhecimento sobre tudo que estava acontecendo, mas ao mesmo tempo sua força e determinação me conquistaram completamente.
Essa é uma série que eu vou acompanhar com toda certeza!
|I have to admit I have a fascination with Cults. I love to read about it, to understand how it works, how they can make so many people believe in their brainwashing. When I saw this book was about a Cult, I knew that I had to read it, and I’m so happy that I did.
I liked how we discovery about how the Cult worked in small pieces, without and out and out lecture about everything. How we could see everything working in Abe’s mind. All the conflicting emotions. How Myra doesn’t understand what she is part of, but at the same time is so strong!
This is a series that I completely intend on following.
A cloud of smoke followed the silver-haired woman out the door of the main building onto the covered porch outside, and she shot the butt of her cigarette into the dirt in front of the semi.
“Your mother’s been trying to reach you.”
My phone had died two days earlier, and I’d forgotten to bring a charger. Mom was the only person I still spoke with from Lancaster, but it was rare for her to call me, and I only reached out a few times a year.
“Say what she wanted?” I asked and slid my hands into worn leather gloves.
“Honey, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your brother passed away last night.”
Ted Grier hung back in the doorway, watching. Both of their faces wore sympathy.
“Your brother passed, Abe. You should call her back. Come on in and use the phone.”
I hadn’t spoken to my brother in years, but when I left home with no plans to return, I just assumed things would stay how I left them. They’d cling to their Bibles and bands and keep living in their own warped version of reality. They’d stay tucked under the strict thumb of the Legacies and God, or at least the way they interpreted him, and I’d live my life in the woods, free of their judgment and rules.
Alone and how I liked it.
They lived how they wanted, and I did the same.
I squinted in the mid-day sun, and the tension in my neck pinched even tighter.
Ted limped to the stoop, tapped a Camel from his pack and lit it. “Son, you wanna come inside for a minute? Call your family?”
I did not. Calling them was the last thing I wanted.
It was almost noon, and I still had more than half day’s work to finish. The tobacco in the air was thick as I pulled it into my chest. “I’ll call when I get home.”
It was supposed to rain for the next four days in the hills, and there was work that needed to be done. Calling in the middle of the day wasn’t going to do anything but put me behind, and my brother would still be dead that evening.
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Meet The Author
M. Mabie lives in Illinois with her husband. She writes everything from steamy romantic comedies to angst-filled, pull your hair out drama. She enjoys it all. With her unconventional love stories, she tries to embody “real-life romance.”
She cares about politics, but will not discuss them in public. She uses the same fork at every meal, watches Wayne’s World while cleaning, and lets her dog sleep on her head. She has always been a writer. In fact, she was born with a pen in her hand, which almost never happens. Almost.
M. Mabie usually doesn’t speak in third-person. She promises.
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